Back On Track

During my first “poke and prod” back home, I scoured the menu.  I had complained about the taste, but in truth, I was excited to be able to eat solid food again.

“Take it easy,” Randy implored.  “Your body’s not used to real food, yet.”

I picked up the phone and ordered a standard breakfast – scrambled eggs, grits, toast, juice and coffee.  I ended my conversation requesting some fresh fruit, something I’d never been a fan of, but suddenly had  a taste for.

“Did they change my taste buds, too?” I asked, laughing.  “I’ve never had a hankering for melon, but it sure sounded good.”

“I don’t think that happened,” Randy laughed.  “But then, I’ve a feeling you’re about to see a lot of changes.”  She paused to take the blood pressure cuff from around my arm.  “Everything looks great,” she added, turning back to the cart.  “I’ll be back to check on you in a couple of hours.  Remember, eat slowly.  You don’t want your first real meal in a week to make you sick.”

Leaving the room, she closed the door.  “Ah,” I thought, “peace and quiet – finally.”  I closed my eyes and let me mind drift.  Though I wasn’t home yet, I certainly had a sense of peace.  The worst was over – or so I thought.

There was a knock at the door, and the dietician entered with a covered tray.  “Breakfast?” she asked.

“Bring it on,” I said, “and you better stay out of the way of the fork.”  She chuckled as she brought the tray table to the bedside and set everything up.

“I’ll be back in a bit to pick it up,” she said, again closing the door on her way out.  I lifted the cover on the food tray to see exactly what I’d ordered.  Scrambled eggs had never looked so tasty.

I was ravenous!  As I took the first delicious bite, I thanked God for the nutritious, real food and that I’d made it back this far.  I scarfed down everything but the parsley on the plate, slowing only long enough to take sips of the weak, bland decaf coffee.  ‘Didn’t matter, I would’ve eaten anything.

Just as I finished up, John and Belinda returned and settled in for a long day.  “You guys don’t have to stay,” I said, “I don’t think they’ll be much going on today.”

“Oh, no,” John retorted.  “I’m in for the long haul, remember?”  We all chatted for a while, then Belinda rose to leave.  “Now that I see you’re alive and kicking, I can go home for a little while,” she offered.  “I’ll be back in a couple of days.”  She gave John and hug, walked to my bedside and gave me a kiss, then left the room.

“Can I get you anything?” John asked. 

I adjusted the sheets on the bed, noticing that the whole of my torso was covered with bandages.  “When do you think these will come off?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” he replied.  “I’m sure they’ll only keep them on there as long as absolutely necessary.”  He stared out the window.  “You o.k.?” I asked.

“Just really tired,” he said.  “It’s been a long week, and I”m glad the worst of it’s over.”  He paused.  “We have to start walking you up and down the hall today,” he added.

“I’m not sure I can,” I answered.  “I don’t have any strength at all.”

“And that’s exactly the point,” he said.  “You won’t have any until you start getting back to normal activity.”  He had been down this road with his mother many years before, and I was lucky to have such an expert taking care of me.

“Come on,” he said, standing.  “Get out of bed and let’s take a walk.”  He walked to the bedside and took my arm.

“Can’t I wait until my breakfast digests?” I asked.

“The sooner you start exercising, the sooner I can take you home.  Now get up.”

I rose slowly and swung my legs off the side.  The pain was great, to say the least.  “I don’t think I’ll be able to go very far.”

“It all begins with one step,” he retorted.  “So let’s start that step.”